“True Blood” recap (7.5): It all sounds pretty gay to me


Two good episodes in a row, True Blood? Where were you last year (and the year before that)? Why do you have to wait until we’re about to break up to buy me flowers every day? I can’t even tell if I’m glad we get to end on a good note, or pissed because now you’re actually going to break my heart. This week’s episode most directly parallels last season’s standout, “Life Matters,” in that it centers around a funeral, and is light on plot and heavy on character. Since True Blood’s plots are usually muddled and exasperating whereas its characters are almost uniformly delightful, this is an inversion that actually works. (Except with Bill and his dumb flashbacks but we’ll get to that.)

We pick up outside Fangtasia, where the bodies of the Hep-Vamps and human vigilantes are still being carried/hosed off. The Bon Tempians have gone, but Ginger is there. (Why is Ginger there? How did she even know Eric was back in town? It doesn’t matter; we love Ginger.) Also around is Willa, who it turns out is the only person adequately mourning Tara. When Pam demands she go with Eric to hunt down Sarah Newlin, Willa puts her foot down.


Willa: HE’S NOT MY REAL DAD. Tara is the one who raised me and then YOU left us without even giving your relationship a real shot. She never would have died if you two had just been in bed having sex forever, like you were supposed to.

Pam: [Makes a face like her heart just got stung by a thousand wasps.]

Eric: You’re right, I was a terrible maker. I never tucked you into your coffin, never took you out for a game of catch (the human). But tell me where Sarah Newlin is and I’ll set you free.

He releases her (presumably now she can, like, get a tongue piercing without permission) and she tells him that Sarah Newlin has a sister in Dallas, and that sister is a closeted vampire.

Eric and Pam make ready to head to Dallas, but Ginger stands in their path, begging Eric to finally put the “sex” in “sex slave” like she has been wanting since the second she walked into his video store. Eric tells her that would be wrong since he is sick, but Ginger is like “Big deal! My therapist says I’m sick, too!” Sadly, Ginger never gets her man; she’s pried off his coffin like a crazed Beatles fan. And if that’s the last time we ever get to see Tara Buck, can I just say: you were a gem that sparkled even in a treasure chest, and I hope you are being compensated for the irreparable damage you did to your voice with all that screaming.

While Pam and Eric set out, Sookie returns home, and is immediately confronted with the ghost of Alcide (figurative, not literal ghost. On True Blood, you have to specify). Lafayette and James show up to comfort her and tuck her into bed, with the promise that they’ll be there when she wakes up. She sleeps an entire day, and only emerges from slumber at dusk the next night.


To her surprise and consternation, she finds that Lafayette, James, Alcide’s dad, and Alcide’s dad’s girlfriend have set up her home for a blowout, let’s-mourn-Alcide-but-also-get-wasted party. Understandably, she finds this grossly insensitive, especially since this party is taking place at her house, without her permission when her boyfriend died yesterday. But Lafayette (probably the only man on Earth who could talk you into having a death party is like, “We have to celebrate life! It’s what he would have wanted!” (Have you ever noticed that the dead are kind of like ventriloquists’ dummies and you can make them “want” whatever you want?)

But most importantly, Alcide died the day before yesterday; Sookie just slept through it, and according to the laws of Bon Temp Time, that is more than enough time for Sookie to mourn him and find love again. Bowing to his character, if not his logic, Sookie conceded to the party, and even to Lafayette’s rule that no one is allowed to say “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Right at that moment, Bill shows up flowers in hand—a girl sitting near me said, “he probably stole them from the graveyard”—and makes ready to get his party on.

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